If You Could See What I See by Cathy Lamb

//ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?ServiceVersion=20070822&OneJS=1&Operation=GetAdHtml&MarketPlace=US&source=ac&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&ad_type=product_link&tracking_id=dantra0c-20&marketplace=amazon&region=US&placement=0758259409&asins=0758259409&linkId=7WQZZBX52PH2JQR5&show_border=true&link_opens_in_new_window=trueIf You Could See What I See is one of the better books that I have found through good old Kindle Unlimited, but really, that only means that it isn’t downright unreadable. The story was solid, the characters were interesting. But, at the end of the day, it’s still only meh.

Meggie O’Rourke has been groomed since childhood by her feisty grandmother to take over the family lingerie business,  Lace, Satin, & Baubles. Instead, she has rebelliously spent most of her adult life working as a documentary film maker with her creepy, moody, and abusive husband. Well, creepy, moody, abusive husband is now dead, so with few other prospects, Meggie finally agrees to come back to the undies when Grandma orders her home. Coming back means dealing with her two drama queen sisters and her famous sex-therapist mother. Intended hilarity ensues.

Again, this was one of those mediocre novels that just infuriated me for being meh. Someone PLEASE recommend a book to knock my socks off, it’s been too long since the last one (which was, by the way, Stephen King’s Revival. Maybe I’ll just read that again to renew my faith in books). What really annoyed me about If You Could See What I See was when Meggie decides to film a documentary to help save the failing undie company. Her plan is to interview different women work for the business about momentous life moments, and which bras these women were wearing at the time. So, for instance, one woman talks about escaping from her war-torn home country, and the bra that she had on as this happened. There were lots of other stories, but I quit paying attention so I don’t remember. Why did I quit paying attention, you may ask. It’s because I do not believe that any woman remembers what bra she was wearing during a momentous life event. Because it was a momentous life event, thus she should have been focused on something asides from her undergarments. I call bologna.

I would recommend this book if and only if you, like me, have Kindle Unlimited, and are absolutely desperate for something to read that isn’t a complete and total atrocity. In that case, this may be the book for you.

 

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